Oceans Away
by Kainos Ktisis
Summary: The road to redemption is never easy, but no one ever has to travel it alone. Cloti. AU of sorts
1. Prologue

A/N: I really ought to stop starting new stories when my old ones are far from finished, but I'm starting to find that I really just can't help it. So here we are again. My first attempt at a pure drama. Although I'm considering this an AU, several elements will align with the original game/movie plot.

That being said, I must admit that I've jumped on the bandwagon...aka this is another one of those "Cloud goes away and suddenly comes back, what will everyone do now" stories. Be that as it may, I do hope that you all will give this a chance and give me a chance to write an overly-used plot in an original manner.

With all that out of the way, enjoy and leave a review! Thanks a bunches.

**Disclaimer**: All people, places, things, etc. concerning Final Fantasy 7 belong to Square Enix. Nor do the lyrics to "Ocean Away" belong to me. That one goes to The Fray. Everything else belongs to me. Which really doesn't amount to much, I find.

* * *

**OCEANS AWAY**

_There goes the sun oceans away  
And days die young when you're gone and you're gone  
_

- The Fray

**Prologue**

Time is a rather peculiar entity. Every day and every hour passes by with agonizing lethargy, but then you look back sometime down the road to find that months and years have passed without your noticing it. Yes, time has that utterly unpredictable nature that allows it to ambush even the wariest of people.

And so you find that every moment away from her is another second of torture, but those moments eventually pass—though you know the frequency of such will never decrease—and time—cold, heartless time—goes on. Before you even realize it, years have come and gone, but your mind is still securely fastened to those bygone days of regret.

Time was supposed to be a friend, a friend who would allow you to forget the pains of the past so that you may concentrate on the joys of the future. But as each day reveals its hidden mysteries, you find that time is not a friend. Quite the opposite, it is an enemy. An enemy that mocks you for your foolishness.

After all, you _are_ a fool for wasting all those precious years of possible redemption reflecting on the past, contemplating about the future, and forgetting about the present.

And you know now that the present is all that really matters, but so many years have passed that you don't know how to focus on the present anymore. And so you find yourself caught in this trap, unable to let go and unable to move on.

You're just here. Oceans away from the only present that really matters.

…

Time had been kind to her. Physically at least.

Six years of endless toil had found her beauty matured and her spirit calmed, though her eyes were tempered by a wisdom she ought not possess at so young an age. Yet it was those eyes of sympathy that called people to confide in, to trust her, even if they themselves could not understand why. Hers was a soothing presence, one that lamented with your sorrows and rejoiced with your happiness.

And still, though all who knew her would undoubtedly unanimously agree that she was far more attractive now then she was six years ago, not one could deny that time had affected even her.

Crow's feet and the makings of a perpetual darkened patch beneath her eyes attested to many sleepless nights, and the rough quality of her hands a sign of washing wine glasses every day without fail. Little specks of oil burns along her arms marred her otherwise creamy complexion, but proved her occupation in the kitchen.

Six years had seen her turn from her fighting ways to embrace the life of a regular woman.

Oh, and she _did_ embrace it. More than anything, she reveled in the sweet knowledge that she did not have to fight anymore, did not have to pretend to be so strong. But of course, she ignored the little voice in her head that told her that the mask she wore today was a lesser representation of her true nature than that of six years ago.

Six years. How quickly time slips away!

But she was happy, and though she was often burdened by the past, she did not regret. Because she knew that life is too short to be spent grieving over the past when the present has so much promise in store.

But she did not deny—could not deny—that in those brief moments of silent reprieve, when she was left to ponder on her own, her thoughts would inevitably stray to memories of him. The moments were few and far between, but the little ache in her heart when she remembered never quite faded. A part of her rejoiced that her heart still knew pain because as long as she had pain, she would not forget. She would not lose him completely.

He had made his choice all those years ago, and though it had been difficult to accept it, accept it she did. She had to, if not for her own sake, then for the sake of those who relied on her strength.

She could not refute the fact, however, that she had initially hated him for his abandonment.

But time had passed, and that hatred—being far too detrimental to one's own soul to maintain for long—had also passed. So too did her bitterness fade, and with the fading of such, her heart found healing.

She was a woman who knew love, who knew hate, and who knew that both could bring such distinct pain. But she chose to love, to love her friends, her family, herself—and yes, even him. Because, while the pain will never completely go away, it can be mended and made into something so much better.

And so had she forgiven him in her heart.

Oceans away as he may be, she only hoped that he could also find that forgiveness within himself.


	2. Chapter 1

A/N: Just for clarification, in terms of time frame, this takes place eight years after the original game ends. However, as you will soon find, I've taken the liberty to switch about the events in the game and movie quite a bit. As to what that means, I guess you'll just have to read to find out. Teehee...

Anyway, you know the drill. Read, enjoy, and drop a little review if you're so inclined (which of course I do hope you are.)

* * *

**OCEANS AWAY  
**

**Chapter One  
**

All signs favored the probability that tonight would be exactly like any other Tuesday.

Business on Tuesdays was always on the slower side; people were not very inclined to dine out on Tuesdays, having already had Monday to get down from the weekend high and three days more to suffer through before reaching the next couple days of rest.

Still, even the slowest days in The Seventh Heaven, a popular diner located in the hub of downtown Edge, proved hectic for its successful proprietor, a young woman by the name of Tifa Lockhart. Although, in reality, it wasn't so much because of the incessant flow of customers that found Miss Lockhart bustling about the diner, but because of her commitment to maintain an atmosphere of family comfort in her privately-owned restaurant.

That being the case, Tifa made it a point to set aside half an hour every day—sometimes more—during dinner hours to spend time going from table to table making conversation.

And since tonight appeared no different from any other Tuesday night, the eight o'clock post-dinner rush found Tifa doing exactly what she would normally be doing: chatting amiably with the regulars and introducing the new customers to her favored style of dining.

Her voice rang clearly, the cheerful inflection audible even in the midst of such commotion as is commonly found in restaurants.

"Oh hello Mrs. Bryant. I'll be right with you."

"Mr. Stevens, good to see you off those crutches! How's the new apartment?"

"Laura, back from vacation I see. "

And so went the night and her half-hour of visiting her customers. All was quite normal, but she really should have known that "normal" does not last long for a woman like herself.

"Miss Lockhart!"

Tifa turned toward the voice that had called out for her and was met with an older lady verging on her seventies, though the woman's eyes indicated that her mind was still quite sharp. On first glance, Tifa could not recognize the old woman, but there was an inkling of familiarity lurking around her eyes.

The old woman smiled widely as she continued with a friendly laugh. "Oh…I've forgotten that it's been so many years already. Time passes by too quickly for an old bat like me."

Tifa snapped her fingers as that kindly old voice struck a chord of memory. "Mrs. Tyler! You're the one I bought this lot from eight years ago." She reached down to give the old lady a warm hug. "It's so good to see you again."

Mrs. Tyler chuckled, kind green eyes sparkling with amusement. "I'm just glad you remember me."

"How could I forget? If you hadn't sold me this space at such a low price, I'd still be on the streets with my dreams nothing but alcohol fumes."

"Oh hush! Sweet little thing like you would have caught a break sometime or another. I'm just glad I could have helped you along. Although...if memory serves me correctly, you were planning on making this space into a bar, isn't that right? To be honest, I was a little hesitant to sell you the space because of that, but who could ever say no to such a darling girl like yourself?"

Tifa smiled shyly. "Yes, my plan was to make it a bar, and I did. For a little while anyway. After all, that was all I had known growing up…But…well, a couple of years ago I decided bar tending wasn't something I wanted to spend my life doing so I renovated. I can't believe how well we're doing, to be honest."

A moment of companionable silence fell upon them, and just as Tifa was getting ready to move onto the next table, Mrs. Tyler's next comment froze her feet to the ground. "Say, whatever happened to that handsome young man—oh what's his name? Something to do with the sky…Thunder? No. Rain maybe? Oh goodness, no that wasn't it…"

His name went past her lips before she could stop it. "Cloud…you mean?"

The old woman's face lit up. "Ah yes! That was it. Cloud. Such a peculiar name. Anyhow, how is that boy doing? Last I remember, you two were quite the couple."

Tifa chuckled, but it was a sad sounding thing. "I think…you must have been mistaken, Mrs. Tyler. Cloud and I…we were never anything more than friends."

"Ah…but you want it to be more, now don't you Miss Lockhart?"

The sly sparkle in her emerald green eyes—as well as her ill-fated attempts at matchmaking—would have been endearing had it been related to anything else. As it was, Tifa tried her hardest to squish the sick feeling rising up in her stomach as well as the sudden urge to flee from the building.

But, with a pretty smile painted on a well-placed mask, Tifa replied steadily, "Wanted at one time perhaps. I haven't really stayed in contact with him."

Mrs. Tyler frowned. "Oh, that's a shame."

Tifa's smile straightened only slightly before she said, "Mrs. Tyler, I'm terribly sorry, but I should probably be heading back to the kitchen now. It's been wonderful seeing you again. Come by again sometime, and I'll be sure to give you a discount."

"Thank you dear. Not that I need a discount for incentive. The food is quite amazing."

With a nod and a smile, Tifa retreated back to the kitchen, no longer able to maintain any pretense of cheerfulness.

That was the risk she ran when she talked so casually with her customers. She knew that, but it didn't make the pain hurt any less whenever one of her older patrons brought up _him_. It was a sore subject that most knew not to mention, but sometimes—times like tonight—words slip unknowingly and that familiar ache once again rears its ugly head.

"Tifa." His voice startled her, although she wasn't all too surprised to find herself staring up into a pair of steel blue eyes. He was growing so much faster than she could keep up with. A sign of her age maybe, she thought wryly.

Denzel never called her "Mom" anymore. There had been a time—right before Cloud left—that he had called her exclusively that, but legally it was just not to be.

Several years ago, she had put in an application to adopt the boy, but the application had been refused. As a single woman, by law she could not officially adopt until the age of thirty-five. All this not even taking into account her dubious—at least in the public's eye—career as the bartender and owner of a local pub. No, social services had turned down her application every single time she appealed. In the end, there really was nothing they could do.

Nevertheless, she was still his legal guardian, only their relationship ever after took on a slightly different form. Now, he more resembled the little brother she never had than the son she would have. Especially with Denzel in his teens, Tifa found it comforting to have this little brother in whom she could confide.

"You're back early Denzel. Cid didn't have much for you to do at the shop today?"

The boy—halfway to manhood already—shrugged, refusing to meet her eye. "Not exactly…"

She knew that tone well enough to know that it meant trouble. "Denzel…" she warned.

Denzel didn't last long under her withering gaze. "Alright. So I might have accidentally blown one of his engines up."

"Please don't tell me it was one of his A-series ones."

"It was one of his A-series ones." Tifa groaned. The only thing worse than touching one of Cid's mechanical masterpieces was to blow up one of his new innovations. "Anyway, Uncle Cid got pretty pissed—"

"You think?"

"—so I high-tailed it out of there before he could take it out on me."

Sometimes she couldn't help the wave of sadness caused by the fact that she couldn't call him her son, but then most times she was just thankful that they'd stayed close throughout his "rebellious" years of puberty.

Then there were times like today when she was tempted to wring his neck.

Tifa turned away with an exasperated sigh. "Denzel…"

Meanwhile, he wondered how she could say his name so many times and each time with a different meaning attached to it. Unfortunately for him, the tone attached to this last one threatened bodily harm.

"Look I'm sorry. It's not like I did it on purpose."

"Of course I know that Den. But not doing it on purpose doesn't mean it's right or that it's okay." Her eyes focused on some point on the wall. "Sometimes…sometimes it just hurts more when you don't do it on purpose."

The silence that blanketed the duo was far from pleasant, but nonetheless a familiar one. "You've been thinking about _him_ again." The disdain, the hatred bled thickly in his voice.

Tifa shook her head, not in denial, but in an effort to shake away her thoughts. "Go get yourself cleaned up. I'll talk with Cid tomorrow."

Denzel at her dubiously. "Do you want me to close up later?"

"No, it's okay. I got it. You just get ready for class tomorrow, yeah?"

"…Yeah. You know where I am if you need me."

"Of course."

As he made his way upstairs to a small, but respectable two-bedroom apartment that they called home, a smile worked its way to Tifa's lips in spite of herself. The boy was a handful; that was to be sure, but what sixteen-year-old isn't? But he was _her_ sixteen-year-old son/little brother, and she couldn't imagine life without him.

"Jessie, are we almost done for the night?"

A spirited girl in her late teens responded, "Yes, ma'am. Just a couple of orders for dessert."

"Don't call me 'ma'am.' Makes me sound so old. God help me. I'm twenty-eight and dying."

The girl laughed. "Please. Age is the last thing you need to worry about."

"I don't pay extra for flattery."

"Never said I was looking for extra pay."

"Smart ass," mumbled Tifa good-humoredly as she looked over the accounts for the night so far. "How's your mom doing?"

Jessie's demeanor fell somewhat as she replied, "Much better. Thanks for asking. She's still having trouble getting up on her own, but her recovery is right on schedule."

"Give her my regards when you get back tonight, alright? And don't forget the thermal of soup I made for her. I don't really know if it'll help, but it's some ancient Wutain blend that's supposed to be good for blood circulation or something like that. If nothing else, at least it tastes pretty good."

"Thanks Tifa. Really. You've helped me and my mom so much these past couple of years, I don't know where I'd be without you."

Tifa locked eyes with the girl. "I swear, if you say something like that again, I will kick your ass to the Northern Continent and back. And you know I can do it too."

They shared a chuckle. "Alright I get the point."

"Good, now get back to work."

Tifa watched the waitress deliver some orders and smiled. Jessie really had come a long way. Many of her employees had come a long way. Most of them were young, around Denzel's age, and nearly all came from struggling families.

Take Jessie for instance. Her father—at the time her family's sole bread-winner—abandoned her and her mother when she was four. Mother and daughter struggled to get by and managed to live a poor, but relatively comfortable life. That is, until three years ago when Jessie's mother was diagnosed with a new disease called Geostigma. As of yet, there were no real cures, but there were medicine and procedures that could help ease the pain. Yes, medicine and procedures that cost twice the amount they could make in a lifetime.

The girl had actually resorted to selling drugs on the street to make ends meet, and when that didn't pay out as well as she had hoped, she could only turn to thievery. Actually, that was how Tifa met her. Jessie had tried to mug her and found out the hard way that Tifa was not a person to take lightly.

Stories came out and tears were shed. When all was said and done, Tifa could tell that the girl was not ill-intentioned, just desperate. And so arrangements were made so that as long as Jessie worked at the diner and stayed off the streets, Tifa would help pay for her mother's medical treatment.

Nearly each one of her employees had a similar history; some were drug addicts on the recovery, some were street thugs…Most were simply desperate. And so The Seventh Heaven for them was not just a diner, it really was like heaven. It was a place they could find redemption.

A couple hours later found Tifa cleaning up odds and ends as she prepared to close doors for the night. "Hey Biggs. Last one out tonight?"

"Yeah. Um, can I ask a favor of you?"

"Of course. What's up?"

"Well, you know how I'm helping out with AVALANCHE now? I was kinda wondering if it'd be alright if I could change my shift, you know so that I come in later, but stay later. You know how we're just kicking it off, and I need to be there during the day."

"That's fine. Can you find somebody on the later shift to change with you?"

"Sure thing! Thanks a lot Tifa. Actually, I had another question." She nodded for him to go on. "Did you think more about Barret's offer? You've seen a lot, and AVALANCHE could really use someone like you right now."

AVALANCHE. It was a socio-political newspaper started by a good friend, Barret Wallace. Barret had already, on many occasions, tried to enlist Tifa, but she still hadn't given an affirmative answer.

She'd seen and experienced firsthand how hard it was to live in the slums back when Midgar was more than a pile of rubble, and even here in Edge, when so many lived in abject poverty. She knew the corruption that existed behind closed doors. There was no doubt in her mind that Avalanche's goals to start a revolution against Shinra Power Company was well-founded, but she couldn't bring herself to agree to help.

Maybe if she was younger, when she more idealistic, she would have done so, but with Denzel to bring up…She couldn't understand how Barret could do something so dangerous with Marlene still only in her teens.

But, she supposed that was a true sign of a revolutionist.

Tifa sighed lightly. "I'll talk about it with Barret later."

"…Alright. But we could really, really use your help. And you—"

"Biggs. I'll talk with Barret."

"Fine, fine. Goodnight Tifa."

"Goodnight. And lock up for me, will ya?"

He nodded, but just before the young man left, he added, "A new guy just joined. Barret said he's an old friend of yours."

Tifa was left in stunned silence. An old friend? He couldn't possibly mean…No. It couldn't be. Six years and she still couldn't let it go. With a sigh, she collected the plastic specialty card holders to put them in storage for the night.

The bell at the door signaled someone's entrance. _Biggs must have forgotten to lock up,_ she thought with a frown. _And right after I just asked him too…_

Aloud, she turned to the door as she said, "Sorry, we're closed for the night. We'd love for you to join—"

The "us" in that sentence drowned out amongst the clatter of hard plastic striking tile floor when she saw his eyes. Those hauntingly beautiful blue eyes with the tell-tale green Mako encircling his black pupils. Eyes she hadn't seen in six years.

"Cloud." His name was a breath on her lips. Even so, she recovered quickly. "It's been a while."

His response, if there would have been any, was lost among the thunder of footsteps charging down the stairs.

"Tifa, are you okay? I heard something loud—" The rest of Denzel's comment died on his lips when he spotted him. "What the hell is _he_ doing here?"


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: 'ello there, my loverlies. Here I return with another chapter. The ideas just keep flowing and I have to remind myself that I'm trying to keep this one on the simpler side. Hehe...I'm also trying very hard not to get side-tracked, but I've been running through a bit of a Full Metal Panic! marathon. I absolutely love this series. Surprisingly, the fandom here is not very large which is just slighly depressing...

Anyhow, this chapter features more problems and not enough answers. Let's just hope that Cloud and Tifa can get their act together before they have to save the world again...

* * *

**OCEANS AWAY**

**Chapter 2**

He didn't know what he was expecting, but he knew what he was hoping. And this…this was definitely not what he was hoping would happen.

Cloud stretched his legs out on the couch, a corner of the blanket spilling onto the floor. He sighed. Really though. What did he think would happen? That they'd take him back with open arms and no questions asked?

It was naïve, he knew. But still…irrational as it was, he had hoped.

Though, it really wasn't as if he was in any position to complain. Hell, he had to admit that if he'd been in her position, he would have just thrown him out into the streets. Denzel looked like he was inclined to agree.

But of course, Tifa would always be Tifa, and her heart would always be made of gold.

Never mind the fact that he had just reappeared out of nowhere with absolutely no warning or the fact that he had abandoned them six years ago, she still allowed him to stay with them—temporarily as it was. He really couldn't understand her sometimes, yet a part of him knew that he often took advantage of her goodness.

She would never turn him away because no matter how much it hurt to see him, she would always help him anyway.

…

"_What the hell is _he _doing here?"_

_Tifa looked stunned, not quite ready herself to accept the fact that Cloud had really come back, and certainly not ready to act as mediator. Because there would be a confrontation eventually. Maybe not tonight, and maybe not even tomorrow. But in spite of her best efforts, the two most important males in her life would undoubtedly clash._

_Admittedly though, she wasn't sure whether that was necessarily a bad thing._

"_Good question. What _are _you doing here Cloud?"_

_He shrugged, his body language indecipherable. "I was wondering if I could stay here a few days while I get my living arrangement settled."_

"_Hell no," shot Denzel immediately, a glare still fixed on Cloud._

"_Denzel," reprimanded Tifa. Denzel started to say something, but she silenced him with an upheld hand. She took her time analyzing Cloud, almost like she couldn't believe this was really him, almost like she was weighing how reliable he was, which in all honesty was probably precisely what she was doing. With a slow nod, she finally said, "You can sleep on the couch—"_

"_Tifa!"_

"—_but I'm only giving you a week."_

_The barely perceptible makings of a grateful smile fought its way to Cloud's lips. "That works."_

"_I can't believe you're gonna let him stay here."_

"_Denzel, we'll talk about it tomorrow, okay?" The three remained locked in their respective positions, none willing to be the first to back down. Finally, in a show of authority, Tifa prodded, "Den, don't you have things to finish before school tomorrow?"_

"_I don't trust him. I'm not about to leave you here alone with him," Denzel whispered in a tone loud enough—intentionally, no doubt—for Cloud to hear every word clearly._

_Despite the severity of the situation and the palpable animosity radiating from her charge, Tifa couldn't help but find it amusing. "Denzel, who am I?"_

_He rolled his eyes. Apparently this was not the first time they had this conversation as Denzel responded with a rather well-learned answer. "You're Tifa Lockhart."_

"_Great. And what do I do?"_

"_You kick ass when you need to."_

"_Good. So you can go upstairs and get ready for school tomorrow."_

"_Alright, alright. Doesn't mean I'm happy about it."_

_With one last warning glare at the man he would have happily called Father six years ago, Denzel made his way—albeit slowly—back up the stairs._

"_He's grown a lot."_

"_That's what happens in six years, Cloud. People grow up. Even people who thought they _were_ grown up grow up."_

_The silence that fell between them was suffocating. "…Why don't you ask me?"_

_She smiled sadly with a shake of her head. "Why do I have to ask?"_

_The unspoken question was clear: Why can't you just tell me?_

…

Why _didn't_ he just tell her why he left? Such a good question to which he did not have the answer.

The faint rustle of clothes down the hall caught his attention. "Tifa?"

Sure enough, the brunette stepped uncertainly out of the shadowed hall, her pale skin taking on an ethereal glow in the faint moonlight shining through the open windows. She crossed her arms in front of her chest and rubbed her left upper-arm lightly. He recognized that stance. She did it whenever she was nervous.

Part of him rejoiced seeing that because it proved that some things never changed. But…of course, on the other hand, it meant that they had drifted further apart than ever before and only he himself was to blame.

"Is everything okay? I mean you have enough blankets and stuff?" Her voice was small, hesitant, and it broke his heart.

"Yeah. Everything's fine. Thanks."

She nodded, chewing her bottom lip lightly as if trying to decide whether or not to say something else. In the end, it seemed that she opted against it and quickly whirled away with a mumbled, "Goodnight."

"Wait Tif!" He'd called out on instinct so when she turned her head inquisitively in his direction, he found himself at a loss for words. "I, uh…Do you…what I mean is—" He shook his head with a sigh. Here he was, a twenty-nine year old man who could not form coherent sentences when facing the woman who meant more than life to him. God have mercy on his poor tormented soul. "...Goodnight Tifa."

She turned to return to her own room again, but paused before stepping back into the shadow of the hall.

"You…should probably use my bathroom." He stared up at her from his position on the couch blankly. "If you hadn't noticed, Denzel isn't exactly happy that I'm letting you stay with us for now. I can imagine it'd only be worse if you used his bathroom. I'll leave my door unlocked, but I'd appreciate it if you would knock first."

He nodded dazedly. Another proof that the ocean of time pulled them apart so far apart! Even as close as they were six years ago, he never would have entered her room without her permission first, and she would have known that. There was never a need to ask him to respect her privacy like that because he would have respected it anyway.

Though it felt strangled out of his throat, his response came out steadily. "Of course."

"Well, goodnight then."

"Goodnight. And thanks, Tifa."

…

"_Do you hate me?"_

_Her silence was far more condemning than any verbal answer she could have given._

…

Tifa almost screamed in alarm when she saw him sprawled out on the couch the next morning.

Perhaps it was the insecurity crawling in the back of her mind, but she really hadn't expected him to be there.

Last night…whatever it was, it couldn't have been reality. If it was, how could she have been so cold, so childish? She had matured these six years. Or so she had thought anyway. She had learned to let go, hadn't she? Of course, letting go in the face of the fact that she would probably never see him again on this side of death.

Yet the moment he returned, the moment she saw those damnable eyes that pulled her in like a vacuum, all those feelings—be it good or bad, love or hate—stormed back with a vengeance. And she hadn't known how to deal with them all at once. So she, like the coward she hated being, tried to push off confronting him—confronting herself really—until tomorrow.

Maybe…maybe by then he would have disappeared and she could convince herself that it was nothing but a dream (nightmare?).

But now, as he slept there on the couch, with all his defenses lowered, she was forced to face the fact that he was truly there.

And really, as she studied him, it was almost as if he had never left.

With an arm pillowed beneath his head and the other draped across his bare torso and half of the blanket spilled onto the floor, he looked every bit as at home as he had six years ago.

What possessed him to leave and what possessed him to return? Questions that burned in her mind, but ones that she refused to ask. She would not pry for information not freely given. At least that was what her pride told her.

"You always _were_ an early riser." His voice, still slightly raspy from a night of disuse, startled and embarrassed her. He stared at her with those infuriating eyes, the faintest makings of a smirk dancing at the corners of his lips at catching her watching him.

She hoped that the dim morning light hid her blush, but knew it probably didn't matter. His eyes, Mako-enhanced as they were, probably saw everything with the same degree of clarity as he would have in the broad daylight.

"And you're still here." The words were spoken lightly, but the sneer that hid in its depths was like the claws of a rabid animal, breaking skin and digging into tender flesh.

_People don't change, so when are you leaving again?_ _Because it is inevitable that you _will _leave again._

But even in her own ears, her voice sounded distant, as if someone else were speaking them or someone else was controlling her speech. She wouldn't be so harsh, so unforgiving if she had full control of her tongue, would she?

Regardless of how sick and disgusted she was at herself, he seemed to be at ease. He ignored the obvious barb and chose to understand its surface meaning. He sat up with a light, but somewhat forced, chuckle, and said, "I thought you meant a literal seven-day week when you said you'd give me a week. But, if I was mistaken in any way...if you really want me to leave, I mean..."

She sighed. "That's not what I meant. I guess I just…never mind." She shifted a bit uncomfortably, eyes carefully avoiding his naked and wondrously toned torso—something, she tried to remind herself, that she'd seen plenty of times before so it was really not a big deal—while Cloud silently appraised the apartment that he had once known so well.

"You remodeled it," he stated simply, a look of approval passing on his face as he took in the warmly painted walls and the enlarged kitchen area.

She smiled. Her home decorating was something in which she took much pride. "Yeah. We spent a lot of weekends remodeling. Now that I think about it, I kinda feel sorry for Denzel. I had him doing a lot of manual labor. Then again, he looked like he was having a little too much fun with the sledgehammer when we tore down one of the walls…" she said with a fond smile.

"Wish I'd been around to see that."

Her stomach clenched tightly as her head screamed at him. _You could have been there if you hadn't left!_

She shook her head with an inward groan. This was really doing nothing for her sanity._ Come on Tifa! Stop making this more awkward than it needs to be_! she told herself.

Taking the time to compose herself, the traces of a knowing smile played on her lips as she remembered something else. "So…what exactly is it that you do for AVALANCHE? I didn't really take you for the journalist type, but…"

He looked at her in surprise. "How'd you know?"

"I have my sources…" she drawled with a humored glint in her brown eyes. Seeing Cloud's priceless look of utter confusion, she elaborated, "Several of my employees also work for AVALANCHE. One of them mentioned that Barret said that 'an old friend' had recently joined. I think it was supposed to be incentive to get me to join."

"Did it work?"

"Wouldn't you like to know," she said with a smirk.

"I would actually."

Tifa's smile died when she saw the serious—and painfully hopeful—expression on Cloud's face. She couldn't understand him. What did he want from her?

Changing the subject once again, she headed to the kitchen. "I need my morning dose of coffee. Do you want some?"

"You know me. Same as usual please."

Frustrated, she looked away with an upset smile before exhaling audibly and turning to lock eyes with him. "You can't do that Cloud."

Genuine confusion appeared on his face. "What?"

"You can't pretend like nothing happened. Things just don't work that way."

Stunned silence stretched before them like a dark canvas, the air a little thicker than it had been.

He breathed in deeply. "I see. I'm sorry. That really was stupid of me." Seeing his shirt on the coffee table where he had tossed it the night before, he grabbed it and slipped it on. "I should head out soon. You mind if I use your bathroom right now?"

She shook her head numbly, the rollercoaster of the battle for self-control far too enervating for the early hour. "Go ahead. There're spare toothbrushes in the cupboard underneath the sink."

When she heard the door to the bathroom click shut a moment later, she berated herself mentally for playing the part of a fool. Where had all this hostility come from? She didn't have an answer even for herself.

She was frustrated, confused and despised herself for turning what had been a nice, relatively normal conversation into whatever this was. Because she had to admit, though she didn't want to nor could she accept Cloud back into her life like those six years never happened, it had felt good—so very good—talking with him again, having him there.

And in spite of herself, she wanted him to stay so badly.


End file.
